Author's Note: I'll be the first to admit that this chapter is really short. But I love it. It does exactly what I wanted it to, namely create a really creepy mood while setting everything up for the crisis and climax of the story, which is coming up really soon. I think this chapter is perfectly mysterious, and the ending makes me happy. Enjoy!
:: Michelle's POV ::
The full moon was blood red that night.
I should have known, should have remembered from my grandmother's stories, that a red moon is a great portend of things to come. Here, in Romania, the land of myth and magic, I should have paid heed to the old stories.
Jack had gone to Bucharest, to meet the lycan king of Romania and to discuss a possible alliance. He had promised me that we would spend part of each year here in Transylvania, as it now felt more like my home more than England. He had reluctantly left me in the care of Gabrael, but had called at least four times a day since he left.
Gabrael had left me alone at the manor at sunset on the first day of the full moon so that he could phase and run. He had told me that he had reached a state of control over his lycanthropy so he could phase any time he wished- it was how he had been able to fight off the werewolf back in London. Normally, if he had the choice, he would change on the full moon, because his animal side was much harder to control during that time. He promised that I would be completely safe during the three days of the full moon. He told me he wouldn't ever be far away- no more than five miles at any given time. Close enough so that he could come if I needed him, but far enough away that he didn't have to control his lycan side.
The second night of the phase, the night when lunar magic is the strongest, the moon was blood red.
It had been visible in the sky all day long. People said it was a bad omen. They closed their businesses, stayed inside all day, hoping to avoid bad luck and ill fortunes. Families gathered in one room, preferably close to the fireplace, and prayed that calamity might pass them by.
I should have been doing the same thing. I had Romanian blood in my veins; I knew the gypsy legends. Bad luck follows a blood red moon. But I chose to ignore the omens, placed my faith in my guns and my Order training.
The winds had been murmuring all day, foretelling doom and death and destruction. I heard my name whispered on the breeze, as if someone was calling me back to them. The winds would wrap around me, almost tugging me in a direction that I didn't want to travel.
Karlos came to me at midnight. I was sitting on my bed, dressed in a white peasant shirt, black vest, tight black pants, and knee-high boots with buckles and a small heel. I was playing with my cross pendant, twisting the blood-red ruby on my left hand. My black curls fell freely down my back.
"Princess Ana," he said smoothly, bowing.
I turned my head to look at him. He was dressed in all black, still looking like a dashing rogue from the 1800s. He was primal, and dangerous, and seductive, and I was utterly entranced by him.
"It is time, my lady," he said, his voice husky and flowing over me like black velvet. "Your people are waiting. Have you made your decision?"
"Take me to them," I replied, my voice slipping into an accent that matched his.
A smile that was more of a smirk crossed his darkly handsome face. In one hand, he held up a warm black velvet cloak; the other he held out to me. I took the cloak and wrapped it around myself, then took his hand.
He walked backwards, silently leading me through the shadows. His eyes never left mine, nor did he let go of my hand. We were two wraiths, blending into the darkness.
He led me outside and settled me on a frisky, powerful stallion. He sat behind me, and spurred the horse on into the blackness of the night. We rode in silence, melting into one another as he led me to the unknown.
I don't know how long we rode through the forest. Eventually, though, Karlos reined in the horse, and helped me to the ground. He took my hand, and led me a ways further. Then he stopped.
"I bring your Princess back to you," he announced, his voice low and intense in the silence. "I give you your Defender, your Angel."
There was no sound, but suddenly we were surrounded on all sides by figures hooded in black. None spoke. The fog closed in around us, and suddenly Karlos was no longer by my side. I stood alone, surrounded by a ring of strangers.
The moon shone directly overhead, bathing me in blood.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice shaky and barely louder than a whisper.
"We are those who have served the Prince for centuries," came the whispered response. "We are the watchers, the waiters. We are your subjects and your kin. We are those who are your enemy by nature, your servants by choice. We are those who will deliver you to he who will awaken you to your true nature, your true calling. We are those who will serve as the bridge to your destiny."
"Who is he? This Prince?" I demanded, clutching my cross pendant.
"A child of light, a creature of darkness," they whispered. "One whom you have known before, one who you chose and rejected. The one who holds the key to your reawakening. One who is your lord and master, your partner and slave. One who has fallen, but one who has risen to great heights."
In the distance, I heard a wolf howl. The cry was echoed by everyone in the circle, and then they threw off their cloaks.
My eyes widened in horror as flesh tore away, revealing fur. Muscles elongated, teeth became fangs, humans became animals. The lycans who had only moments ago been gypsies leered at me, the moon reflected in their eyes. They closed in on me slowly, and I knew that I had made a fatal mistake, and that I couldn't stop what I had in my ignorance unleashed.
I barely had time to scream Gabrael's name before something hit me hard from behind, and everything went black.
And the moon shone blood red, foretelling my doom.